I think I fell for Emma the second she stepped out of the car wearing that sexy red dress.
When I'd called and asked her for help, I’d expected my cool and competent PA to pitch up. The red dress, swirling around long, beautifully shaped legs and clinging to the luscious breasts had been the first surprise. The luxuriant curves made the breath catch in my throat; the glossy, dark hair falling down to her shoulders had turned it ragged. The scent of peaches had turned me solid. It took just a second, but in that timeless moment, I knew I wanted her.
As I’m not a spotty teenager, I didn’t follow my instincts. So instead of grabbing hold of her, kissing her creamy, and taking her on the spot, I muttered something nice about the dress and hightailed it upstairs before I gave myself a hernia.
The moment I got upstairs, I called Sam. “You got a moment?”
“Sure. How’s the pagoda coming along?”
“Fine.” Now I had to say it out loud, and I was cringing as I asked, “Listen Sam, is Emma gay?”
There was a split-second pause, and then Sam laughed.
“You bastard!” I cursed him happily. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because you were being an arsehole,” Sam said frankly.
“I guess I deserve that.” I didn’t care, really, because it meant I was in with a chance. “But I was right about hiring career women only.”
There was another pause, and I knew Sam was dying to answer back. We often have clashes about policy. It’s good for business because we get to argue all sides to every question. I’m into the bottom line more than anything else. I look at what needs to be done, I get people to do it, and I pay them well. I think that’s enough. Work is work, and private is private.
Sam is soft at heart, but he’s got a mind like a razor. He’s clever, loyal, and insightful. He also believes that work and private meet, so he sees our business as a series of personal relationships. He might be right. At least he has much stronger ties with the staff than I do.
I’ve learned a lot from him over the years. Also, being the best of friends, we always enjoy our battles, too.
This time, though, Sam was slow to take me up on the challenge. “Let’s argue about that later,” he said finally.
“Sure. A full, no-holds-barred set-to. After I finish this design.”
“Deal. But Curtis, if I win, you’re buying dinner.”
“Okay.”
“Oysters at Frenelli’s.”
“Deal. And you pay if you lose.”
“I won’t,” Sam said smugly.
I hung up, bounced into the shower, and then I had one of the best days in my life.
As I ran down the stairs, there was a smell of bacon and eggs, my favourite. “Oh my God, heaven smells like this!” Emma had made me a breakfast straight from the gods. It was delicious and sinful, and I ate every scrap.
What was even better was that she sat with me, nibbling on some toast. With other people, there’s all the fuss of making conversation, but Emma was quietly content.
I’m probably a selfish bugger, but truth is that I suddenly realised I hadn’t eaten in couple of days. I’m like that. I get so stressed out when I’m planning that I just run on until I burn out. So I ate like a starving wolf, gulping it down and only relaxing as my body returned slowly to normal.
Then there was finding Hector. Poor little pup. People say that farmers are bad to their stock, but I’ll tell you this: they won’t take in something they can’t care for, and they certainly don’t leave them to starve. Poor Hector was frightened, and his paw hurt him, too. From the raw pads, he’d run for miles, probably chasing the car, hoping they’d change their minds and take him home.
I’ve always liked dogs, but with travelling and being divorced, I never got round to adopting one. Having Hector thrown at me by fate clinched it: I kept him.
I was half expecting a lecture from Emma on the dangers of stray dogs or at least cool unconcern, but the efficient automaton had been left in the office. This Emma was fuming, “There’s a special hell for people who dump pets!” Her dark eyes were flashing with fury, and there was no doubt in my mind that she meant every word.
I think that’s when I fell in love with her. Or maybe it the gentle way she held Hector in her arms as we drove to the vet. The dog was shivering, convinced he'd be thrown out again until Emma had cuddled him into security.
“You’re going to be a country home guard dog.” I heard her sweet whisper clearly. “You’ll adore it. Just wait and see. There will be food galore, a lovely garden, and your master will always be with you. You can trust him to take good care of you.”
I was so completely taken by the tender way she addressed the pup that I was mesmerised. I knew I wanted her, and it wasn’t just lust for those undulating curves. I’ve seen plenty of beautiful women, and lots of clever ones, too, but Emma was the total package. There was the no-nonsense executive who’d stood up to me fearlessly on her first day at work and who wasn’t put off by angry vendors or swearing sub cons. But on the flip side was the gentle, loving woman with a strong nurturing instinct.
So I made my move, asking her for supper, and I wasn’t too upset when she turned me down because it was clear she’d just remembered something. It was probably a date. A woman like that would have men all over her.
But then she blurted out, “It’s just impossible!”
It put a block of ice in my gut because it came from her heart. I was suddenly convinced that she’d only meant to be friendly, but having seen the need in my eyes, or perhaps lower down, she’d backed off.
There was an awkward, horrible silence as I drove her home. I was thinking I’d really fucked up. But then she kissed me. And what a kiss! But then she rushed off.
So I went home, poured myself a scotch. I always have a nightcap of Macallan, a lovely eighteen-year-old single malt that is simply irresistible. This time, though, I was barely aware of the rich notes of oak and vanilla. All my mind was taken up by Emma.
“What do you think is going on there?” I asked the dog. “Am I nuts? Was she just kissing me out of impulse? But earlier I really did think she liked me. And she definitely gets me!”
That had been a big surprise. People think of architects as builders, just more pencil than mortar-carrying. And for the super successful ones like me, we’re expected to be cool, calm, and collected. But like I said, I’m no alpha male. Actually, when you come right down to it, I’m a bundle of nerves.
When I have an idea, it consumes me, invading my life and my dreams. Then, when I’m capturing it on paper and making the calculations that will bring it into reality, I’m simply obsessive.
In my head, I know companies reject projects for a million reasons, but every knock back is like a knife in the heart because my work is as much a part of me as a child is to a parent.
I don’t show that side of me to the world. As far as anyone’s concerned, I am a stone-cold pro. I act it perfectly, and even Sam doesn’t quite grasp how draining it can be. That's why I hide at home when it hits me. I need space, and I don't want anyone to see that vulnerable me.
But Emma, my dear, sweet, perceptive girl—she looked right into my soul, saw my insecurities, and went straight for it. “Everything you create is inspired. You have a unique talent.”
Steel on the outside, sweet loving kindness on the inside. And the amazing body, rich, inviting and scented like summer. My heart was hammering away, and I could feel the breath catch in my throat just thinking about her.
“Maybe she said yes thinking it was just casual supper,” I said to Hector. “But then she realised it was a date, and she changed her mind. Because she isn't into me.” I remembered the kiss. “Or because I'm her boss?”
I can’t think how I overlooked that. I guess it’s because I’m all business in the office, and this time we were at my house. Also, running around with the puppy, the lines just blurred.
“I was tired, too,” I confessed to Hector. “I haven’t slept properly in weeks.”
Hearing me, the pup yawned. He really is very intelligent.
“You’re right. We’re both exhausted. Neither of us is thinking clearly.” I drained my whiskey. “Well, the Indian book has given us a fix for the asymmetrical garden. So let’s get a decent night’s sleep. We can talk to Emma in the morning.”
Remembering Madeleine, who turned every conversation into a confrontation, I shuddered. “That’s yet another nice thing about Emma,” I told Hector as we went to the kitchen. “We can talk to her like a sensible woman. No horrible emo sloshing all over the place.”
Although I admit I get uptight myself, I loathe emotional women. Okay, scrap that. Not just women, but all over-the-top types. It’s probably because I know I don’t react too well to stress. Call it a character fault; I do. What it did mean was that Emma’s cool, competent ways were especially dear to me.
“You love her too, right?” I said to Hector. “She’s a rock, our Emma.”
He seemed to agree with me, and he looked comfortable as I tucked him into a soft blanket in a quiet corner of the kitchen for the night.
“You have your water bowl, and if you have an accident, it won’t matter.” I said to him as I stroked his ears. “Tiles are very forgiving, so we needn't worry about mess.”
But Hector had other ideas. He was whining as I closed the kitchen door, and by the time I reached my room, he was howling.
They say you should ignore it, and that responding only teaches your pet that persistence will get him what he wants. It’s probably true, but I couldn’t take it. The canine lament echoing through the house went straight through me, setting my teeth on edge.
I went downstairs, intending to be firm, but one look at Hector’s woeful face melted my heart. I should have realised it, but Hector was terrified to be alone. “Separation anxiety,” I said to him. “Never mind. You’d better come upstairs with me.”
I got him to settle on the floor rather than on top of me, but we had a hell of a night. Hector woke me at two, barking at an owl hooting outside the window. He gave warning at other wildlife at three and five. At six, when he let me know the farmer across the valley was taking his tractor out, I gave up and got up.
“You’re a pest, and I can see why you were dumped!” But he was so sweet, licking my hands when I sat on the edge of the bed and bouncing about with joy when I reached for my dressing gown. I had to forgive him. “I shall get a book on dog training,” I told him. “We need to learn to communicate.”
Hector went outside by himself for a pee while I made tea, and he was good as gold as we sat on the patio together while I drank it, but he howled the place down when I tried to have a shower by myself. I knew there was no way I could leave him at home while I went to work.
“Well, so much for being a country house guard dog,” I said to him. “You’d better take on a day job.”
We were in the office by seven thirty, and by eight o’clock I knew I’d made a mistake. Hector was happy, but he expressed his joy by standing at the window and barking at everything he could see in the street below. He also chewed everything in sight, including the edge of my antique Bokhara rug.
Apart from putting in the asymmetrical garden fix, my email box was bursting at the seams, and I had the Ministry forms to complete, too, but I couldn’t get a stroke of work done. For the ten seconds he wasn’t barking and chewing, Hector was busy peeing on the Bokhara.
That rug is over a hundred years old, and I love it to bits. It’s on the floor by the window so that I can see it when I look up, but I take care of it myself, not letting anyone Hoover it or even stand on it.
Before I could help myself, I was snarling, “Hector, you damn mutt—I swear I’m calling Battersea Dog Home!”
“Trouble?” Emma was standing in the doorway, looking fresh and unruffled as always. She was back in uniform: black trousers and white blouse, with her hair back in its indomitable bun, but she was smiling. “Is Hector being difficult?”
“He’s the devil’s own fiend,” I sighed. “Emma, I’ve got the Ministry forms to do, and Fitzsimmons want a breakdown of my timeline—”
She just nodded and snapped her fingers. “Come, Hector. You sit with me outside.”
I felt guilty instantly. “I didn’t hire you to watch my dog.”
“It’s no problem.”
“He’s a menace, Emma. When he’s not chewing, he’s peeing.”
“Well, he is a puppy.” Her eye fell on the rug. “An accident?”
“Yes, and God knows how I can fix it,” I was moaning away, whining, “A dry cleaner won’t do it. That rug’s an antique.”
“The Ashmolean Museum will know who to send it to.” Emma was rolling up the Bokhara. “I’ll give them a ring.”
“Inspired! Thank you.”
“No problem.” Emma was brisk as usual. “If you want me, I’ll be at my desk.”
She shut the door behind her, and it was instant heavenly silence. I just sat there, blessing her. Emma could restore order in Bedlam, I’m convinced of it.
That morning I worked like a demon. With Hector safely out of my way, I whizzed through my Ministry forms, answered all my email, and just when I was congratulating myself, my cell rang.
“Curtis, my dear chap,” Theodore Burrell’s fruity, aristocratic tones were muted by a background full of excited voices. “I’m at the board meeting.”
Oh dear lord. My gut was clenching with nerves. “Lovely!” I said cheerfully. “I thought that wasn’t till next month.”
“Well, there was a fundraiser last night.” Burrell was an Oxford graduate and always raising money for his old college. “Seeing we were all in the same place, we thought we’d just have at it. Save time and money, you know?”
“Absolutely.” I spoke lightly, but in my gut I knew they’d said no. Burrell was calling me because he’d decided to go with a plain old tower. Cheap and easy.
“We love the pagoda,” Burrell said, “but the financial johnnies are moaning about the cost.”
He was trying to let me down easy. Hell, hell, hell. “Right, but it is special.” I’d give my soul to bring it to life.
“Yes, that what we said, too,” Burrell agreed heartily. “So we’re thinking that it’s best if you come and see them for yourself.”
“Okay.” Anything for a fighting chance. “When?”
“Can you come and chat them up on Friday?”
“Sure. Your office or mine?”
“We’re having a do at the Old Bank. Didn’t Victor tell you when you took him to the Ivy?”
“Of course. Yes, right. That’s this Friday?” I’d forgotten about that damn party. Cocktails, nibbles, and random chatter. It was a total horror fest just to have to go, and the idea of adding in a sales pitch brought out cold sweats.
“I think that will work.” I tried a last-ditch effort to get out of it. “Maybe if I invite them for dinner instead?”
“No, no, they’re off to China on Saturday.” Burrell was insufferably cheerful. “Better do it now. Strike while the iron’s hot.”
“Okay. No problem.” When all else fails, sound confident.
“This isn't about money,” Burrell mused. “It's a sales job, Curtis. Just convince them they'll be constructing history, and they'll sign.”
Oh dear lord. As if hobnobbing with all of them at the party weren't bad enough. “I'm looking forward to it. Fitzsimmons' pagoda will be one of the wonders of the country!”
When I put down my phone, my hands were sweating. Just two days to prepare. What on earth was I going to say?
There was a discreet tap on the door. “Curtis?” Emma came in, Hector bouncing along beside her, looking thoroughly happy with a bone in his mouth. “I’m almost done for the day. Anything else you want me to do?”
Hector was happy, and unlike before, he lay down by the window and chewed on his bone instead of barking at the late afternoon traffic. Emma had worked another miracle.
“Oh no,” I blurted out. “I can’t leave him at home, and I have to go to a do at the Old Bank on Friday night!”
“Right, the Fitzsimmons cocktail party.” Emma was making a note. “I’ll find you a pet-sitter.”
Dear Emma, a total lifesaver. “Thank you,” I said humbly.
Emma looked at me and frowned. “Are you all right? You look a little pale.”
“Fitzsimmons want me to pitch to the bean counters at the party.”
“Good,” Emma said.
I just stared at her. “It’s going to be noisy, crowded, and full of interruptions. How can it possibly be good?”
“They're booked to stay the night,” Emma grinned. “With a free bar, it means they'll be sloshed by eight. Hit them at eight thirty and they'll be putty in your hands.”
“Oh God, I hope so!” I couldn't believe I said that out loud. Worse still, I heard myself add, “Please, please, please will you come with me? I need you to keep me together.”
Pathetic, right? I’m a grown man, for goodness’ sake! I could feel myself shrivel up in shame.
But Emma was smiling. “Of course I will.”